The Fake Bride Loophole - A Mountain Man Romance

by Layla Valentine

  I look out to see Dickinson, but the tree crowns are too thick, the greenery intent on keeping me isolated.

  It doesn’t matter, though. As long as I have my compass, I’ll be fine.

  Around noon, I’m humming a song and making my way up along a crystalline stream. I don’t remember what song this is, but the melody somehow stuck.

  My mind processes things differently out here. Last week’s cases. My clients. The judges I had to deal with. The district attorney hates my guts. He loves golfing with Supreme Court justices, though. I guess he’s looking to join them on the bench, someday. Most prosecutors see the circuits as some kind of final destination. I’m just down with making more money while also helping people.

  It’s the one thing my dad taught me. “Love what you do, and you’ll never work a day in your life.” Naturally, my mom sits poignantly on my other shoulder saying that “hard work is honorable.”

  I suppose both are right, and I may have found the right track in the middle. If I get an offer from Landon & Hargreaves, I’ll take it, no matter how modest the pay—though something tells me they will try to be competitive and above a federal wage, otherwise what’s the point?

  Yeah, I’ll take it. I could make partner in ten years. If I decide to have a family by then, Mom and Dad will be happy. In the meantime, Matteo will likely be the first to get married and give them a couple of grandsons.

  Why is there a bear staring at me?

  I freeze. “Holy hugeness.”

  He’s a big fella. Big and brown, with caramel eyes watching me intently from the other side of the stream, which won’t be an issue if he decides to eat me. He. Maybe it’s a “she,” a mama bear. She’d have cubs, though, wouldn’t she?

  My heart is beating too fast. My pulse is racing.

  Somewhere in the back of my head, I have precise methodologies for handling this kind of situation. Given that I’ve never come across a friggin’ grizzly bear before, however… that particular user manual has slipped into the dark recesses of my memory.

  As the creature’s nostrils flare, I feel myself inching slowly away. Before I can even stop myself, I’m running.

  I’m running and jumping and ducking.

  Branches slap me in the face. I feel the wet sting of pine needles, and I hear the beast rumbling behind me like a big furry boulder rolling down this side of the mountain. Upwards is a steep climb. Bears are better at this than me. I slip out of my backpack and drop it, hoping it will distract the creature while I make my way for the edge of these thick woods

  There it is, just ahead. I see the blue of the sky, accompanied by the sound of rushing water.

  Looking back, I see the bear briefly stopping to sniff the bag, but it’s my running and panting that sets him off again. I’ve never been this close to a grizzly before, but I’m pretty sure that nearly crapping my pants is a perfectly natural reaction.

  “HELP!” I scream like a panicking idiot. Who’s going to help me? I’m in the middle of the frickin’ woods!

  It doesn’t matter, my brain is drenched in flight hormones, so my ability to reason is practically dead.

  I jump over a gnarly old root and land poorly on my right foot. Sudden pain shoots through my ankle, and it persists with every rushed step.

  “Help me!” I cry out, though deep down I know that it’s a futile response.

  My leg burns, now, but I can’t slow down. I’ll be grizzly chow in minutes unless…

  I shoot out of the forest with surprising speed—too much speed, I quickly realize, as I come to a sudden halt, teetering on the edge of a cliff face. Behind me, the bear lets out a furious roar, eagerly closing the distance between us.

  Bathed in sweat and jolted by adrenaline, I ignore the leg pain and move down the sharp and stony ridge. Ahead, there’s the nothingness of cold mountain air. Beneath it, an emerald forest sprawls with dusty paths and a running creek that snakes through, disappearing somewhere in the valley. In the distance, I’d see Dickinson if I were down for some sightseeing—which I’m not, because bear!

  “Goddammit!” I curse under my breath and manage to climb onto a massive pine log. An old thing. It’s probably been here for years, as there is no foliage left, and I can see ridges and scratches left behind by deer antlers.

  I make it all the way to the far end and find myself about fifty feet above the forest below. If I fall, it’s going to hurt. It will probably kill me. The wood creaks and moans under my weight, but I hold on tight as the bear sniffs around the tree base, nostrils flaring and spurting a bit of snot.

  Even an animal should know that climbing this tree to come after me would be suicidal, yet the grizzly seems to be contemplating the option.

  Bang!

  A gunshot tears through the brief and dreadful silence of anticipation.

  “HYA!” a man shouts from somewhere behind the trees.

  Bang! Another shot. The bullet rips through a pine stump mere feet from the bear, startling it.

  A Michelle Perez lunch is out of the question now, as the bear huffs and puffs and stumbles away, rather irritated by the interruption.

  The meat on my bones softens almost instantly as I realize that I might even survive this, after all.

  A man comes into focus on the edge of the woods that recently expelled me. I see the rifle hanging loosely from his shoulder. His broad shoulders. Holy smokes, he’s tall. And big. But not bulky, not chunky… no, he’s just right. Narrow waist, ragged jeans and deerskin jacket over a gray plaid shirt.

  Square jaw. Tiny dimple in his chin.

  “Are you okay there, miss?” he asks, but my senses have abandoned me. The adrenaline rush is gone, and I’m reduced to a blubbering mess, unable to take my eyes off him.

  There’s a sliver of sunlight cutting past the trees and just over his head, capturing amber reflexes from his messy brown hair. His eyes remind me of the sky before an autumn rain, a gray that hides so many emotions. This man is gorgeous. Breathtakingly handsome. A hidden treasure of this mountain, perhaps, and he just saved my sorry hind.

  “Hi…” I manage, still clutching the tree.

  He looks to his right, making sure the bear is gone before he comes over to the base of my fallen pine. “You should move back toward me now,” he says, a slight drawl sweetening his words.

  By the stars, I’m hanging from the edge of a cliff and sweating at the sight of a man seemingly designed by the gods to make me swoon. Geez.

  I give him a slight nod and gradually crawl back to safety.

  The old tree objects to my movements, but the gorgeous mountain man is right there to catch my arm and pull me away as the wood tears, finally loose from the last of its dead roots.

  I still, arms wrapped around my savior as we watch the log go down, crashing at the base of the cliff, vanishing beneath the fir canopy below. I’m breathless, realizing how close I was to actual death. So stunned, in fact, that I don’t immediately register the rock-hard muscles I’ve been gripping for the past half minute.

  He stands quietly, though, waiting for me to come back to my senses.

  “Sorry,” I say, then try to put a decent distance between us as my heart starts doing idiotic somersaults. My reactions are so inappropriate, I can’t control myself.

  “Ow!” I cry out and nearly stumble backward and off the cliff, but he catches me and takes a few steps back.

  “You’re hurt,” he mutters.

  My feet dangle over the ground as he holds me up. As soon as I try to stand on my own, searing pain shoots up my leg, and I whimper like a wounded dog. “Ah, dammit… It’s my ankle. I think I sprained it.”

  He gives me this long, dark look, while I try to reconnect to my new reality. He smells of leather and mint, of pine and morning frost.

  Correction. He smells like a September morning up on this beautifully dangerous mountain—whoever said life was devoid of poetry was awfully wrong.

  I hold on to him, fingers digging into the deerskin on his muscular shoulders, and n
early lose myself in his curious gaze.

  I bet he’s wondering… How the hell did she end up here?

  Chapter 6

  Michelle

  “I’m Daley,” the mountain man says, his voice slightly gruff.

  Some kind of weird synesthesia happens because his faint rasp reminds me of ground sea salt. It’s so strange yet so beautiful, all these sensations coming over me at once. I imagine it has something to do with my near-death experience. It’s been minutes since I nearly fell off the edge of the world, yet here I am, still staring at this wonderful man, wondering what to make of this entire moment.

  I’m looking for sense in the midst of chaos.

  That’s the lawyer side of me, keen to demonstrate that there is an explanation for everything. A logical explanation, nonetheless. But the only logical explanation here is that I have the sudden and debilitating hots for my rescuer—and understandably so, because he looks tastier than a slice of pecan pie.

  His name is Daley. Right. I should give him my name, too, instead of just gawking at him.

  “I’m Michelle. Sorry, the whole incident from earlier, it’s still fresh.”

  “That’s fine. I guess you’ve never danced with a grizzly before.”

  He seems amused, not that I can blame him. I should’ve stuck to the main trail like every other normal person. Just because I enjoy hiking doesn’t mean I’m actually good at it. There is so much I still need to learn—that bear made it obvious.

  Shame burns red roses in my cheeks, but I find the strength to look up and meet his eyes. “If that was dancing with a grizzly, guess you could say I have two left feet,” I reply.

  “And one of them is sprained, most likely. You still can’t stand, huh?”

  I try again but stop myself at the slightest hint of pain. I shake my head slowly and point to somewhere behind this massive forest god of sorts. “I left my backpack somewhere back there. My first-aid kit—”

  “You need more than a first-aid kit,” he says. “Come on. I’ll help you back to your bag, and then I’ll take you down to my cabin. You need ice on your ankle, and I’ve got some medicine to help with the pain, as well.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I blurt out, instantly regretting it. This isn’t the city, Michelle, and this man just saved you from certain death. What the hell?

  Naturally, Daley looks offended. Not that I can blame him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I mean, are you sure? I would hate to inconvenience you.”

  “No inconvenience whatsoever. Believe it or not, I’ve been waiting for a woman to come my way this week,” he replies with a dry smirk. “I guess the universe has its mysterious ways.”

  “If that’s the case, the universe also has a shoddy sense of humor, sending me running ahead of a giant grizzly.”

  “Oh, that was no giant. That was just Lou.”

  “Lou?”

  Only now do I see it—the complete absence of fear. The way he is naturally at home in this corner of the world. He knows every inch of this place. Probably every tree and every stump, not to mention every animal that roams through these woods.

  “Yeah, I call him Lou. I’m the one who helped with the tranquilizer darts when the federal wildlife specialists came through and started tagging the youngest generation of grizzlies in the area,” Daley says.

  “I take it he wasn’t dangerous?”

  “Lou could rip your head off in a split second. But he usually just likes to play. My guess is he was trying to intimidate you. He took down a deer not that long ago, so I can’t imagine he’s hungry yet, and his hibernation prep starts much, much later.”

  He offers me his arm, and I let him snake it around my waist. I’m good to hop for a while, and he stays close, making sure I don’t fall over.

  “How many bears are there on this mountain?” I ask.

  “About three, I think. Maybe four. I’m surprised it was Lou you bumped into. He usually sticks to the lower sides of the mountain. This is Amy’s territory. Amy’s not to be trifled with.”

  Trifled. I haven’t heard that word in a while. Daley sounds like one of those old-timey cowboys from a Calamity Jane movie. I can see him on a poster advertising for this side of North Dakota, for sure. Hell, I’d come all the way from Russia or New Zealand or the moon itself to see him, truth be told.

  I’m shocked by how attractive I find him. He’s like a breath of fresh air, and my guess is the earlier scare messed with my internal chemistry, too. It will probably wear off, but in the meantime… I really don’t mind crushing on this tall glass of water.

  “Amy is the leader?”

  “Bears are solitary creatures, so no. But she has claimed the biggest turf on the mountain, and she’s quite aggressive with those who trespass.”

  My blood runs cold as I look around. “Are we on her turf now?”

  “Right along the edge. But you can tell she marks her territory because even my wolfdog is scared enough to keep his distance.”

  I follow his gaze to find a big wolf waiting for us by my backpack. He’s huge. Like something one would have to CGI into a movie…

  Daley is quick to notice my hesitation as I take a moment to analyze my next few steps.

  “Don’t be scared. He looks like the Big Bad Wolf, but he’s actually just an oversized marshmallow,” he says, chuckling softly as he helps me reach my bag. “Here we are. First thing, we need to get you some water.”

  “I have a bottle there,” I reply, pointing at the side of the bag. The bottle is stuck inside a black, netted pocket.

  Daley retrieves it and hands it over, while Jax inches closer.

  I freeze, bottle pressed against my lips, as the wolfdog sniffs me, then decides to lick my hands with his long and surprisingly bristly tongue. It makes me giggle, but it also sends the last thread of tension away. I truly am safe, now, and hella thirsty.

  I empty the bottle in a moment, which gets a whistle out of Daley.

  “I guess Lou helped you burn some calories back there, huh?”

  “You could say that. Though I wouldn’t recommend Lou as a trainer.”

  He laughs, and it’s the brightest and strongest laugh I’ve ever heard. He even throws his head back, seemingly enjoying every second of it.

  I wonder if he has friends around here and what they’d be like. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot by a man based solely on what kind of people he surrounds himself with. Either way, Daley is eons superior to the average Minneapolis man, for sure, though I might be biased since I clearly have a thing for rugged mountain men and didn’t even know it.

  “Come on, let’s get you back to my cabin. We need to take care of that ankle before it swells up,” he says, the humor fading back into a five-o’clock shadow across his jaw, and I briefly imagine running my fingers along that patch, fingertips already tingling with anticipation.

  I’m not usually this spontaneous, but there’s something about this mountain, about this man. I have to see where this leads.

  “Thank you, Daley,” I say.

  “You’re most welcome, Michelle.”

  He takes my bag on one shoulder, and I can’t help but laugh a little. I am half this man’s size and have a history of struggling with my hiking backpack, yet he basically turned it into a man purse, barely any weight for him to worry about.

  I hold on to him as we make our way down the mountain and onto a stony path. There are markers carved into the trees here, most of them spray-painted yellow.

  “What are those for?” I ask, pointing at one of the X-shaped signs.

  “It’s a hunter’s path. It’s the shortest way between the base and the peak, and it has side paths on both sides leading through the woods,” Daley says. “I usually go up this way when hunting. Half a mile up and another mile to the left is deer territory. Amy likes to go in there sometimes because of the creek. She loves to fish.”

  “I like how you talk about the bears like they’re old friends.”

  “They
kind of are, though Lou and Amy are young. Their parents were more of a handful, but with more tourists coming up here in the past few years, I guess the cubs were exposed often and thus know to stay away.”

  “Whoa, you know the bears’ parents?”

  He nods. “I helped tag them, too. Amy and Lou are the only younglings on this mountain. The third I know of for sure is Ol’ Skittle. I call him that because he chased me once, and I scared him off with a pack of Skittles.”

  I can’t help but laugh, trying to picture the incident. “How the hell did that happen? I thought you had a handle on this area, Mr. Mountain Man.”

  He chuckles. “He caught me by surprise. There are some beehives on the edge of his turf that I take care of, and I’d just come back from Dickinson that day, determined to squeeze me some honey before I went home to eat. I had the Skittles in my jeans pockets, and I didn’t see Ol’ Skittle till it was almost too late.”

  He pauses to bring his hands closer, as if holding an imaginary and considerably large watermelon. “That’s how big his paw was. He missed me by inches. I almost screamed and started checking my pockets for the pepper spray.”

  “Pepper spray?”

  “Yeah, but not the personal defense kind. The proper bear spray. You’ll find it at any hunting store.”

  “I had no idea.” Clearly, my earlier conclusion stands reaffirmed. I still have a lot to learn about hiking, especially across the Midwest. “Well, I do most of my hiking in… let’s say lighter wilderness.”

  “This mountain is a character all on its own,” Daley replies, smiling.

  I hate limping and hopping, but his grip on me is firm. At least I’m close enough to get drunk on his subtle fragrance—I’ve only just noticed it, and I can’t help but imagine him holding up the cologne bottle, then spraying it in the air and walking through the mist. It’s ridiculous, but the pain in my ankle will make me imagine all sorts of crazy things.

  He continues, “I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone, especially since only the other side is included in the national park. Did rangers send you this way?”